0 Summers, by and by
by NeueHaasGrotesk
Summary: A collection of flash fiction that I've written here and there. Generally kaishin, some AU, a few bits of stuff from future stories, a little of other pairings maybe. 总之就一堆乱乱的东西, 请别见笑
1. Kid x Conan

Warned for: Violence

A.N: Basically a general dumping ground for the collection of stuff I've written about DCMK. You'll get the gist of it by the third chapter. Is it me or has the guidelines gotten a whole lot more snooty? Damn. Either way, have fun with this mess. I have no intentions of expanding further on any of these unless otherwise stated.

* * *

He laps up the involuntary shudder that goes through the small body pinned beneath his, his much larger hand tight around the slender wrist. Blunt nails and baby soft fingers scratch at him, but it doesn't do much damage through the thick wool of his suit. Conan - no, Shinichi chokes as the cold barrel of the gun traces up milk white skin, along the pale column of his throat to lodge firmly beneath his chin.

"Decided to be an actual criminal, after all?" Shinichi's voice hitches with something like fear as KID laps the salt from his skin, flushed and sticky from the summer heat. "Didn't think you would join the lowest ranks of them all."

"I would be, but then I don't have to treat you like a child anymore now that I know that you aren't one, do I?" KID hums, hot breath tickling at the shell of his ear. "Now that I know where you've been hiding, Meitantei."

Shinichi snarls in answer.


	2. Pianist Kaito x Tuner Shinichi

Warnings: None

A.N: Completely irrelevant, but only today did I find out Kaito's character song in MK. It sounds so sad. These are all originally from tumblr, but I've cleaned them up some, so you may notice some slight omissions and differences. The main question I have for Kaito is since he's rich, why didn't he install a soundproof room? Nobody knows. Otherwise, he could have invested in one of those new silent pianos where you can play with the sound plugged in through headphones.

* * *

Shinichi raps on the door, three sharp taps in quick succession, and when there is no audible response from within the apartment, repeats the motion again.

From behind the closed door, the sound of piano music falters, then stops completely. A few beats of silence more, then there is the distinct sound of a lock being pulled back, and the door is abruptly opened, revealing a tousled, sheepish looking man in the doorway.

"It's not 10PM yet," the man says immediately, as though it is something that he has to say very often on a near daily basis. He peers closer at Shinichi, then hesitates, apparently now taking in his thunderous expression and terse posture. "Ah… how may I help you?"

"Actually," Shinichi lifts his chin a little, peering into the apartment over the man's shoulder. "Your piano."

"Not 10PM yet," the man says automatically, then lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, fingers tugging at the ends of his hair sheepishly. "You're the new neighbour, aren't you? I'm sorry if I've disturbed you with my practising - "

"It's not about the time." Shinichi cuts in swiftly before he could go onto what is undoubtedly and long and well-rehearsed apology. "Your piano. May I see it?"

"Uhm… " the man shuffles slightly, brow furrowing. "Sure…? Why do you want to?"

"Pardon the intrusion," Shinichi says, then abruptly shoulders past the man into his apartment. He toes off his shoes at the genkan, because he does have manners, even if he is on a mission. "Where is it?"

"Uh - I haven't - Straight down the corridor - are you barging into my home?" The man hurries after him, perplexed and unsure of what to do with the strange neighbour who's just invited himself in. "Look, if it's about the music… "

The piano is standing in the living area, black lacquer gleaming quietly in the soft light. He walks right up to it, running a hand over the black and white keys, before pressing down on a few select keys, tilting his head at the sound that the piano produces.

"Look - " the man begins irritably behind him, a hand hovering his own and ready to pull him away from the medium grand. "You can't just walk in here and fiddle with her however - "

"You need to tune your C and F sharp."

" - you please… what?" In his confusion, the man bites down on his own tongue entirely by accident, and while he is recovering from the pain, Shinichi rounds to the back of the piano to peer into soundboard. "What?"

"Your C and F sharp." He dips his fingers into his pocket, and withdraws a name card, offering it to the man who was still tearing up from the pain of having bit his tongue. "It's out of tune."

"There's nothing wrong with it," the man insists, and presses down on the mentioned keys. The sound makes Shinichi tuck his tongue behind his teeth, brow furrowing in automatic response. It hadn't been that bad, but when he's had to listen to the man trip over the note for four hours on end, it is driving him more than just a little crazy.

"I know you can't hear it, because you would have tuned it if you did," Shinichi says, careful not to offend, looking over the medium grand. "You keep your piano in a very good condition, just by looking and listening at it, especially with how frequently you practice with it. You also value your music - " he waves a hand over the numerous shelves stuffed with music manuscripts. "- which means that you would not have let it go out of tune if you could help it - "

"Okay," The man shifts his weight onto one foot, examining the namecard Shinichi's handed him. "Okay, Meitantei. So - you are telling me that you have absolute pitch, and you want to tune my piano?"

The man is grinning, and something about the eyebrow waggle has Shinichi flushing. "In short, yes, if you will let me. Granted - it is very minute, and not many people can catch it."

"No, no. Go ahead, so long as you know what you're doing. You're right - now that you've notified me of this, I cannot possibly let it go unfixed. Please. Besides - " the man rounds the piano to stand next to Shinichi, offering him an easy grin. "It isn't every day that someone barges into my home to forcibly tune my piano."

Shinichi is sure that he is red to the tips of his ears, and coughs to cover up his embarrassment, instead pulling out his tool pouch, reaching into the soundboard with his lever and tries to ignore how intensely the man was watching him. He _is_ fiddling with his piano, however, so he supposes that he would only be watched closely in case he damages what he knows is a beloved instrument of his neighbour's. "Try playing something?"

The man does obligingly, and Shinichi gives it a few minute adjustments before he packs his tools away. "She's all good now. I'm - I'm sorry. For my rudeness. I - She's beautiful." He pets the piano self-consciously, then steps away from it. "I should have introduced myself earlier. I'm Kudo Shinichi, and I've just moved in a week ago… I really don't mind the long hours, and I really don't mind your practising because it's - uhm, it's just that you play those notes rather often, so - If there is any way for me to make up for my disturbing you… "

His neighbour has been smiling widely throughout his rambling, and he pauses when he holds up a hand. "Not if the fault is mine to begin with. Let me introduce myself - I'm Kuroba Kaito, aspiring world class pianist and hobbyist magician." He sweeps Shinichi a bow, and Shinichi startles when Kuroba snaps a rose into his hand, offering it to him. "Outside of tuning, do you also play the piano, tantei-san?"

At his hesitant nod, the grin widens.

"Perfect."


	3. Gamemaster

Warnings: Violence towards Conan (again)

Summary: KID generally does not want Conan interfering with his business, and shows Conan exactly how he is unfit for meddling in other people's business when he's far from done with his own. (They're keeping score)

A.N: I've always wanted to write kinda-evil KID. Gotta wash my hands clean of the anti-violence notion KID.

* * *

He barely registers the sudden hand on his shoulder before he is shoved face first into the wall of the alley, rough grit and the edge of bricks grinding into his cheek. It startles a cry from him, but the sound cuts abruptly as something cold and hard presses itself to the base of his skull. The raw panic surges up like acid in his throat, and he cannot help but cry out in pain when his assailant puts pressure on his arm, bent behind his back and forcing weight onto his shoulder joint. He can't move, not if he does not want to dislocate his shoulder. He can't reach for his watch, or move without projecting his intentions, and he's well trapped without leverage and -

The sound of the safety being thumbed off is loud in the deserted alley, and his blood runs cold at the sound. No one would think to look into a dark alley at this time at night when all it would bring anyone is danger, especially not on a cold, rainy night when all anyone would care about is getting home. Who would think that there would be a child being held at gunpoint, here? His breath hitches, shamefully, from fear when the pressure shifts, and this is it, he thinks, the end of what should have caught up with him ever since Tropical Land, the effect of being too brash and being too curious for his own good and now he's going to be gunned down without a single fighting chance or an explanation when there's so much more that he wants to do -

"Or," says an amused, and painfully, frighteningly _familiar_ voice from behind him. "So it would have been, if I hadn't gotten here first."

He nearly falls to his knees, when he is suddenly, unexpectedly released. He stumbles, and immediately puts his back to the wall, eyes wide ( _escape, look for possible escapes_ ) and still trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline. KID, in a nondescript black shirt and jeans steps back, gun still in a gloved hand and a sharp mocking smile on his lips.

His head snaps back, thudding against the wall heavily when the gun is suddenly aimed at him, barrel between his eyes ( _KID isn't - he_ can't _-_ ) and then a string of colourful flags tangle themselves into his already wet hair with a loud, heart-stopping bang.

"Aren't you glad, tantei-kun?" The thief plucks the end of the banner from the gun, allowing the end to fall limply to the ground. He is cold, then hot, then cold again, as the thief produces two slumped over figures with a flourish, both trussed up and out of for the count.

Shinichi swallows, trying to work a throat gone dry as bone. He knows them, and if KID is to be believed ( _he is, the thief has no cause to lie_ ), they have been gunning for him, evidently having tracked and tailed him and he hadn't even suspected nor noticed a thing -

His mind spins, dizzy, as KID hums and does up a neat ribbon on one of his would-be killers.

"You - "

"Picked up your slack for you again." There is sharp steel beneath the amusement, and Shinichi nearly flinches. KID doesn't try to move towards him. He isn't even looking at him, at this point, but it doesn't stop his instincts from screaming at him for him to _flee_ from this danger. "It would have been funny, if it weren't so pathetic."

 _You've barely won your game, what makes you think that you can win mine?_

The heels of his sneakers hit the wall behind him, and something clatters as it falls to the side. KID's smile widens cruelly, and he gently takes Shinichi's cold, numb hand into his own, breathing over the limb to warm it, presumably. Shinichi does flinch this time, when he turns his cheek, lips brushing close to a ear, the world spinning too quickly for him to make sense of what is happening.

"If you don't try harder, I might lose my interest for real this time," KID murmurs, as though imparting a particularly juicy secret, and chuckles as he releases Shinichi and steps back. Shinichi sinks to his knees when KID disappears with an easy gait from the end of the alley. It is a good few minutes until it occurs to him to call for help, and he fumbles with his sodden clothes, dialling the number on auto-pilot when he pulls out his phone. He doesn't allow himself to shake apart until he is safe at home (but how safe is safe, now?).


	4. Gemini verse - Partners in crime

Warning: None apply, unless you consider a somewhat evil Conan offensive

A.N: The Gemini verse is a story I've planned from start to finish but has 0 motivation to write it out in full, especially because I'm always distracted by my WIPs. In this verse, Conan has just flown in from the US and made to stay with his brother Shinichi (and then his parents go MIA quickly again). Shinichi refuses to help him on a case because he's just a runt, and so Conan turns to KID instead by blackmailing him, and they now work together. I have legit reasons for his nickname. But uggghhh, I just wanted to write a strained brotherly relationship.

* * *

He's dabbing at the nail polish with cotton balls dipped in acetone when the door behind him opens, and clicks shut again. The bed he's sprawled out on dips slightly as someone settles next to him, and he lets them have his hand when a small hand tugs on his wrist, relinquishing the cotton ball to them without complaint.

Conan dabs at the pastel pink polish, lips twisted in something near to disappointment. "I was hoping that you would keep it on for a little longer," he says, even as he removes the colour from the rest of his fingertips. "A photograph would have been nice."

"A photograph - "

"Would have been incriminating, I know. You don't reuse your disguises." Conan gets up to drop the cotton ball into the trash can, before pulling a fresh one out of the plastic packet and soaking it with acetone. "It is one of your better ones."

"Don't be childish." KID offers him the other hand, watching as Conan makes quick work of it, pushing his overly large spectacles back up on his nose when it slips downwards. "Any disguise is a good disguise if they can't see through to the person underneath. There's no better, or best disguise."

"Yeah, but Kid-san," Conan chirps, voice bright and pitched childishly upwards, drawing a grimace from KID. "How can I not be when I am just a child?"

He answers the boy's wide smug grin with a pinched smile. Despite the amount of time that they have been working together for, Conan's little boy act has never ceased to unsettle him. "I doubt you are 'just' anything, little frog."

"You mean like the way you are 'just' a thief?" Conan's voice brims with the kind of artificial sweetness that one would find in grape candy, and it makes KID's teeth hurt just to hear it. The boy lets go of KID's wrist to tug the chestnut brown wig off of the thief's head, the mass of curls falling down into the teen's lap. KID runs a hand through the synthetic hair, then catches the pack of make-up removing wipes that Conan tosses at him. "So? How was it on your end?"

"So? Give me some credit. They didn't suspect a thing." He peels the sticky cover over, pulling out one of the sheets, then tips his chin in the direction of the cutesy green backpack in the chair. "The stuff that you want is in there."

"Good job," Conan says absently, dropping the childish act as he hops off the bed to get to the bag, and KID watches the gentle smile curve into a shark-like grin when the rummaging produces a roll of documents and a thumb drive. As much as the boy would deny it, he still inherently shares a great many similarities with his brother, KID thinks, although he keeps the unwelcome opinion to himself. "Now get that stuff off of your face. You look weird and ridiculous."

"And here I was thinking that perhaps you had a thing for it." Kid pouts, even though he was already wiping off the lipstick and eyeliner that he had carefully applied to himself for the disguise. "You can admit to liking it, I won't be judging you. After all, you _are_ at the appropriate age when you are still figuring things out for yourself. The internet's really teaching kids a lot more than books are nowadays, isn't it?"

Conan shoots him an unimpressed glare through the mirror as he pockets the USB. It doesn't dent the thief's shit-eating grin the slightest, so he settles for rolling his eyes. "And by that logic, you have a fetish for cross-dressing and gets off on people treating you like a proper girl, yes? Don't be stupid."

KID shrugs, toeing off the ballet flats. "Maybe, but maybe I'm also right," he teases, keeping a careful eye on Conan's calculative expression as the child considers the blueprints in his hands. "He has no clue, does he?" He adds in a quieter tone of voice, turning serious.

Conan hums the affirmative, the familiar smirk spreading like oil on his lips, eyes glinting in what could be nearly malicious glee, fingers curling into his palm. "Shinichi-nii san will never know what hit him."

KID stretches languorously, before propping his chin onto his hand, grudgingly impressed despite himself. "Like I said. He really has no idea how terrible you really are."

It nearly makes KID want to pity him.


	5. GD Kaito x Editor Shinichi

Warning: None apply, but author is very embarrassed by this piece and if you would to skip it please go ahead.

A.N: Also based on real life.

* * *

Shinichi doesn't look up from where he has his head buried in the safety of his arms, nose rubbing uncomfortably against the polished surface of the desk. If possible, he just wants to have a moment to himself, but the pen tapping insistently next to his head refuses to let him be. Instead, he glares balefully at Kaito, who tries his hardest to project innocent guile, and rakes a hand through his hair.

"I don't see a problem," Kaito says, which was Shinichi's problem.

"They want you to remove the leg hair," Shinichi says, tapping at the spread of illustrations open before them. "They don't like it at all, and they would also like for you to remove the weird little men in mankinis that you've left in the beach clean-up article. And if you could just make the back cover a little less creepy… it would be greatly appreciated."

If only he hadn't taken a sick leave the day before, then all of this could have been possibly avoided.

"What absolute nonsense," Kaito says cheerfully. "I find it very charming."

"They don't. At all. And neither do I."

"That's exactly why I'm the designer and you aren't." A hand pats him hard on the back. "By the way, I need, say, about 40 words less from you for the case study, if possible. We have to do something for the humour section as well, because no one's started on that one yet. Though, I think Aoko was talking about featuring travel this issue, just to tie in with the feature. Or you could just let me do it and save her the trouble."

Shinichi thinks of the one article they've allowed Kaito have free rein with, thinks of all the scathing looks he's received over his morning meetings and groans.

"Remove the leg hair, and I'll think about it," he says.

"Never." Still as unrepentantly cheerful as ever.

There is probably still some ibuprofen left in the medical box. Shinichi rubs at his temples, then wearily gets to his feet. "I'll send you the final draft for that interview at 4. They've already finalised the other interview. If anything else comes up, I'll just let you know. Please think about the fixes, or I'll let Hakuba at it."

"Hey." Kaito calls out just when Shinichi is nearly out the door. "Are you still heading out for lunch?"

Shinichi consults his workload mentally, and shakes his head. "I doubt that I will have the time to. You go on ahead, Kaito. Sorry to ditch."

"I'll just pick us something up, then." The designer shrugs. "I mean I'll have the intern pick us something. Not a problem. Shall I fix dinner tonight?"

"No, I'll do dinner. You lot still have to be ready for the print runs, don't you? Don't worry about it." Shinichi gives him a tired but sincere smile. "The editor's' work is almost done, so we'll probably be knocking off earlier than you."

"Right. Thanks for the hard work, Shinichi." Kaito winks, and Shinichi quickly turns away before the other can catch him blushing.


	6. Consultant Criminal KID

Warning: None apply

A.N: Just think of it like a Leverage kind of deal. The team will run into a lot of funny trouble, I suppose. And Kaito will run into a very angry Shinichi Kudou.

* * *

The woman sat across the table from him on a sunny Tuesday morning. He had opted to work out of office that day, seating himself in the al fresco of a cafe he frequents often, a plate of half eaten chocolate croissant and the crumbs of a chocolate muffin at his elbow. As long as there was easy access to chocolate, wifi, and a power supply, he wasn't too picky about where his butt would be parked for the majority of the day. As it was, he was engrossed enough in his work that his only response was to shift his belongings a centimetre or two closer to himself, and did not realise that he was being spoken to until he's come to a momentary break in his work.

The woman only smiles serenely, as though she hadn't just been ignored for the past thirty minutes. It's an amazing display of patience, Kaito thinks. She's wearing a sunhat, chestnut brown hair in a neat braid over her shoulder. Her nails are neatly manicured, and she wouldn't look amiss as an art student in the Louvre in her white cotton blouse, wool pleated wrap skirt and scuffed oxfords. Mostly the scuffed oxfords and the plastic dinosaur button brooch, he decides.

"Sorry, you were saying?" he looks up around a mouthful of croissant, trying to keep most of the crumbs from falling onto the keyboard of his laptop. They don't, but end up on his notebook instead, and that was just as annoying.

"I admire your work," she says simply, hands folded across her knee on her lap, a small smile on her lips. Tom Ford Flamingo, he thinks.

"Sorry, do I know you?" he asks, allowing a look of honest confusion to cross his face.

"Maybe not," she admits, just as honestly with an embarrassed downward sweep of her lashes. She lifts a shoulder when he says nothing. " _You_ , however. You're well known. Or I suppose the term should be _notorious_?" She touches the tips of her thumb and forefinger to form a circle, lifting her hand up before her right eye, left hand imitating the shape of a gun. "Or am I wrong?"

"I'm afraid you've lost me," he says blankly, careful to keep his hands relaxed before him.

She blinks back at him, before returning her hands to her lap once more. "I know you have retired, but I would like to make an offer to you regardless. We could use someone with your skills and a mind like your own." She undoes the strap on her camera bag, and her fingers dip in to pull out a black name card. "Make of it what you will. Money, crowds, revisiting for old times' sake. Hopefully not money, because we're honestly not too well stocked on that." She slides the card over to his side of the table. "No pressure."

He stares at her, before bursting out into laughter and twisting around in his seat, looking around searchingly. "I - wow, this is. Wow. Is this a prank show? Where is the secret camera? I'm not sure what is happening, but you're _good_ , lady." He goes a little pink, embarrassed. "Will this be on youtube?"

She joins him, sharing in the joke, and gets to her feet when it is natural to. "Think on it," she winks at him. "I shall not disturb you any longer, for I, too, would like a tour of Paris before the day is over."

"Miss?" Kaito blinks at her, the smile faltering in the return of his confusion.

She blows him a kiss jauntily, and walks off with her pastry in a white paper bag without a single backward look, easily lost in the people although there weren't too many of them around at his hour.

That was last Tuesday.

Suitably unnerved but refusing to show anything for it, Kaito had stubbornly remained at the cafe, grinding down on his work until the early lunch hour.

All he left behind was a plate of crumbs and an empty stained mug.

This week, he found himself breaking into a studio apartment just off the central.

She didn't seem entirely unsurprised to see him, although she did very nearly drop her cup. The contents of it spilled over onto the floor, and she let out a curse, stepping back quickly.

It was true that he was retired.

It was also true that he should have been on a plane back to Japan, a flight that has already left an hour ago from Charles de Gaulle for Tokyo.

"And what makes my lovely lady think that I will be interested in your offer?"

She doesn't turn back from mopping up the mess with a thick wad of paper towels. Her hair is let loose, and it cascades in waves down her back. "Maybe the fact that you are here and not on the flight home to your friend?" she says testily. "Shit. We have housekeeping for this shite." She throws the wad of soaked towels down onto the ground.

He's been retired for give years now. Shinichi probably still has the key to all his stuff that he's locked away the day he's accomplished his objective.

"How would you like to be a consultant criminal, International Thief 1412?"

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and pours herself a new glass of wine. He pauses, considering.

"Call me Kid."


	7. Aoko x Kaito - Partners in crime

Warning: None apply

A.N: Bringing to you the next generation of married thieves.

* * *

He wasn't being whiny. He wasn't. Really.

"I don't see a reason why we need to be in couple wear for this."

"No one is going to see us, and we won't be working together, so if you're worried about being seen all lovey dovey with me, don't worry." A slap nearly knocks his cap off his head, and he grunts, righting it again. "That's the last thing Aoko wants. Besides, there is nothing couple wear about jeans and a black hoodie."

"Are you really trying to sell me that there is nothing similar about our outfits? Are you - are you blind?"

He is really trying, but when he is gesturing frantically between them and then at the mirror, he is probably failing really hard right about now.

"Stop making a fuss." A pair of gloves hit him in the face, and he whimpers pathetically even as he tugs them on obediently. "Check your earpiece, bakaito. I don't have time for your goofing around."

"Fine, fine." The earpiece crackles, and then Kaito's voice is coming through, clear as though he was standing right next to her. Which he was. She will have to test it again when he is in position. "You've memorised the plans, so please check your equipment. Aoko doesn't want to save your sorry butt just because you were _careless_."

"Are you kidding? Me, careless?" He still pats down his pockets, regardless.

"Must Aoko remind you about Edogawa-kun?" He flinches, and she grins, sharp. "Stop complaining and go where you're supposed to go. I still need some time to set up, so please leave me alone. And stop complaining."

Kaito scowls, scuffing the toe of his sneakers against the ground. "Don't get careless, stupid."

"Don't get caught, genius."

He trots off, grumbling as he went, all of which she receives loud and clear through the earpiece. She's already tapped in, gathering information as they speak. Glancing in the mirror, she pauses, then winks at her own reflection. It _is_ a little couple-y, as Kaito said. All the better.

"Sorry, daddy," she sticks her tongue out at the screen on her laptop. "You have to forgive Aoko this time too."


	8. Choices

Warning: APTX4869... which is an offence to science. And also dark!Shinichi

A.N: ? Damn, Shinichi. Do you want to be half dead or all dead is not really a choice.

* * *

"They plan to shoot you tomorrow, on the day of your trial."

He hadn't bothered to look up when he had heard the approaching footsteps, echoing ominously off the walls of the corridor. Now, he cautiously lifts his head from his arms, uncurling himself from the tight, defensive position he's been in on the ground.

Kudou stands on the opposite side of the prison bars, and there is nothing in his face or posture that Kaito can read. His eyes are cold as chips of ice from the arctic, and unable to hold the heavy judgement in those eyes, he lowers his gaze and his head to his arms again. No point in bothering. EVer since he's been caught, cuffed and tossed in here, no one's given him any privacy or left him any dignity. He's promised to be on a good behaviour, but they've still left the cuffs on, metal biting around his wrists and ankles - overkill, but then he supposes he should feel flattered.

(He's good at escaping, but he promised, and right now, he doesn't want to care.)

"You put me in here," Kaito says, at length. His voice is rough, throat dry, and some water would be heavenly, but he doesn't think he is up to asking for any. He thinks of the betrayed expression on Nakamori keibu's face, and any strength that he has shrivels up and dies in him. The inspector's men are frighteningly loyal and protective of their superior, and only serve to distance the both of them when it is clear that Nakamori could just be emotionally compromised.

Kudou's lips curve up in a sharp, cruel smile, and Kaito firmly thinks of Aoko. "I simply am the intellectually superior one out of the both of us," Kudou says. "You played yourself into this one."

Something hits Kaito in the face lightly, falling aside to the ground with a barely there sound, and there's a soft rustling of fabric, then Kudou sighs.

"I didn't put you in here for a death sentence. Of course, you still have to own up to what you have done, but taking a bullet for it is a little too much. This will buy you some time - not much, but perhaps enough for you to avoid your public execution tomorrow. To the rest of the world, you will just be missing, presumed dead."

The red and white capsule lies beside him, from where it has stopped rolling on the ground.

He would be playing right into Kudou's game, the detective hiding his cards well, and he would be… not-dead, or maybe dead, and he would likely never see his mum, or go to school, or see Aoko again.

"Do you want some water?" Kudou asks, false concern in his voice when he reaches for the pill.

Kid is resourceful. He will survive - he simply has to.


	9. Gemini verse - Emergency calls only

Warning: None apply

A.N: I'm a sucker for sick!fic. Also set in the Gemini verse. Also, none of these has been seen by a beta. I did all of the cleaning. If I can be a fan of my own verse, I will 100% go for it. Conan is something of a brat in this verse though.

* * *

KID only picks up on the third ring, mumbling peevishly down the line, something about school for which Conan has no patience for, particularly when he had been ringing him for the past hour at regular intervals. Granted, it is a regular school day for the both of them, and according to the clock hanging on his kitchen wall, KID should be in between his third and fourth period before break.

"He has a bad fever," Conan says without preamble, carefully sliding the kitchen door closed behind him. Shinichi was out for the count in his bedroom upstairs the last time Conan checked, but it never hurts to be careful around a detective.

There is an undecipherable silence down the phone, then KID sighs, a quiet exhale through the line. "How bad?"

"...forty degrees. It was thirty-eight this morning when he was supposed to go to school. I gave him some paracetamol, but the fever isn't going down at all."

"Maybe you should get him to a doctor," KID says, not unreasonably. Conan's fingers tighten around the casing of the phone, worrying his thumbnail between his teeth. In the background, there is a shrill of laughter - presumably KID's classmates. It's a little hard to fit the image of the international jewel thief into a high school setting, so Conan doesn't try, forcing himself to let go of his thumb.

"I did give him a lot of fluids and a sponge bath… " Conan stops when KID sighs again, a much harsher sound when compared to before.

"If you're worried, you should take him to a doctor." Over the phone, there is an echo of a door closing, and then it is suddenly much more quieter on KID's end of the line. "I'm not exactly qualified to be giving medical advice, Conan-kun. What I would suggest, you probably have already done."

"I did go onto MayoClinic," Conan says mulishly, a corner of his lips quirking upwards into a reluctant smile when KID is surprised into laughter from his answer. "But that's not what I'm calling about."

"Oh? I'm listening, but make it quick."

"How do you make porridge?" Conan blurts before his courage fails him. Unexpectedly, KID doesn't laugh, instead making a thoughtful noise in his throat.

"Do you have any dried vegetables lying about the house?"

Conan glances up at the kitchen shelves overhead. He will need a chair and a stool on the chair in order to get to them, but it isn't unmanageable. "I think so."

"Okay, there is miso in the fridge, isn't there? There should be a box of it there. You will need about ¼ cup of rice, and a rice to water ratio of 1:5. Soak the dried vegetables in water for 15 minutes, shorten the time if you're using hot water, then put all rice and vegetables into the rice cooker. There should be a setting for porridge, if you own one of the modern rice cookers. Repeat the cooking process of the cooker however many times you want to until the porridge looks like how you think you want it - I usually cook it twice over, but it is up to you. Just don't forget to stir, because porridge likes to be burn on the bottom, though it happens less with a rice cooker. For the miso, dissolve a teaspoonful of it into the porridge, when it's done, and you can also beat an egg and stir it in about fifteen minutes before it's cooked. Look, I have to get back to class. You will send me a photo, won't you?" There's a tapping noise on KID's end, and Conan nods before he realises that KID is unable to see him. "Will you be alright, Conan-kun?"

"Of course I will be. Who do you think I am?" Conan sniffs, injecting disdain that he does not feel into his voice. Miso, rice, water, and dried vegetables. Shinichi has never allowed him near the stove, but it shouldn't be too hard if KID says that it's alright to cook with a rice cooker. If KID had thought that it would be too difficult a task for him, the thief would have said so, wouldn't he?

"That's the spirit!" KID says brightly, and Conan can hear the grin in his voice. "Well, I'm off then. Take care of our meitantei for me, and I, being the bright future of Japan - "

"Sorry for calling you at this time," Conan mumbles, thinking that maybe KID wouldn't really hear it, except that KID pauses in his self-flattery, a surprised kind of silence taking over their conversation.

"Like I told you, you're free to call me in case of emergencies," KID says, slowly. Carefully. "Anyway, you were scared. Doesn't matter now. Not all emergencies are life and death, you know."

"It's not as though you picked up on the first ring," Conan accuses as he drags a chair noisily over to the sink, not bothering with a lie.

"Oops! I was sleeping in class, sorry." KID returns cheekily. "Photos even if you burn the house down, little frog!"

Conan snaps the phone shut on KID's laughter, an embarrassed flush turning his cheeks pink. He takes a moment to himself in the kitchen, running through KID's instructions in his head. Water, rice, dried vegetables, miso, maybe eggs, in that order. Right. He could do this.

::

The first photo comes through about ten minutes after Kaito's settled himself back into class. Checking to make sure that the teacher isn't watching, he props up his textbook to text a reply.

 _That's way too much water._

 _Too much vegetables,_ he adds.

 _Taste before you salt!_ he reminds, just in case.

The last photo comes in near the end of his class, and he laughs loudly upon opening it. Attached to the text are two photos, one of them of the cooked porridge, already ladled into a bowl and garnished with a whole, uncooked chili for some reason. The other is of Shinichi, face flushed with the fever and tangled up in his blankets still half in his uniform, hair sticking up in disarray and fast asleep. He isn't sure if this is something that he should really be seeing, but after a moment's struggle with himself, he saves the photo to his phone anyway.

 _Well done_ , he sends.

::

"Do you suppose he will be masochistic enough to drag himself all the way here tonight?" KID asks later that night, setting the top hat jauntily on his head at an angle, inspecting himself in the mirror before giving his reflection a saucy grin.

"Don't use that word to describe him," Conan grumbles, fiddling with the small radio in his hands. "He definitely won't be coming tonight. I slipped him a couple of sleeping pills. Nevertheless, we will be sticking to the original plan. It'll make things easier for us."

"Is that medically safe?"

"I checked with a doctor. I have no intentions of murdering my own brother, particularly when I'm not around to supervise him at home." Conan glares. "I'm - "

"Only playing an elaborate prank on him and not being a little troublemaker, yeah?" KID shushes him with a pat to the head. "Rogue detective, I know. Get to work, now."


	10. Demon Kid x Angel Shinichi

Warning: None apply

A.N: One out of the two demon/angel AU I have. I seriously love wing fics. Of course, I would love a fic where KID is found with wings, and Kudou has to figure out exactly how to help him when his wings are in a disarray and KID doesn't quite know how to use them after hiding them away for so long. Maybe next time. Also, as advanced warning, #20 is really messed up. Of late, I feel like I've lost motivation for KaiShin.

* * *

"It's what you might call a little territorial dispute. A pain in the ass, but there we go. Barely anything to concern yourself with, meitantei."

Kid's face hovers above him, a pleasant smile on his lips. Beneath them, the city is asleep, awash with lights from commercial buildings, bright ribbons of traffic weaving through the darkness to form an elaborate map. Shinichi swallows, and tightens his grip on Kid's arm around his chest.

He'd been chasing Kid on a heist, and then it had all went to hell in a handbasket when he got to the roof. Literally.

Kid doesn't seem to be bothered by the cold, holding onto his hat by the wide brim before the wind could snatch it from his head. Behind him, strong, pristine white wings keep him in the air, a soft radiance coming off of his glossy feathers. He should have looked ridiculous, what with three pairs of them, paired together with his ridiculous white suit and equally ridiculous top hat, but Kid wore it well and only looked ridiculously put together. Against the night sky, he looked like an angel.

Shinichi knows better than to mistake him for one.

"To think that you were hiding in plain sight." Shinichi licks at his chapped lips nervously, hands still clutching onto the thief - no demon's wrist. "That's bold."

"Shows that you don't know me well." Kid - because Shinichi needs time to come to terms with the fact that the faint traces of magical signature he's felt for the past two years in the district belongs to _Kaeim_ , who was also Kid, the criminal he'd been chasing around like a headless chicken for nearly the same amount of time - says cheerfully. Shinichi scowls, then lets out a terrified yelp when the grip around him loosens, blunt fingernails clawing at his hand.

"Don't drop me," Shinichi warns, palms sweaty against Kid's wrists, heart hammering in his chest.

"So you are the one assigned to Beika." He feels a cold nose against his neck, then yelps again when it is quickly replaced by a hot, wet tongue. "They never give up, do they? I've barely felt you around. You still smell good, though - whatever there is left beneath this human disguise of yours."

He can't help the shudder that escapes him when teeth scrape over his pulse. Kid gives a throaty chuckle, then folds his wings, plummeting them downwards a few feet before snapping them open again to halt mid-air immediately. It was enough for Shinichi to develop a cold sweat, eyes screwed shut, spine stiff with fear.

"An angel that can't fly? My, my." Kid tuts from over his shoulder. "How very… human."

"Shut up," Shinichi snaps, on edge from the fright. "What, now?" The faint signatures he's felt from the other lower class demons are gone, clearly erased when Kid had thrown out the netting spell. He didn't stick around to see, seeing as he'd been busy falling off the ledge of a roof. Now, all he feels is Kid, a powerful thrum of energy in his teeth and bones, only kept in check by Kid's apparently iron restraint.

"Oh, I'll think of something," Kid says absently, and Shinichi tries not to feel unsettled about how vague his answer is. Point: he tries.


	11. Editing the Past

Warning: None apply, implied major character death

A.N: Some information to clear up this thing - A very short bit of AU based on BTSAT's universe, where cities are built around core sentient Libraries that keep all information from the Beginning up till now, and they depend on the information that the Library and the government releases to ensure its survival (the government is totalitarian, by the way). This is the London branch, in which Hakuba is one of the top tier politicians, and Kaito is an Outsider. Outsiders have no loyalties to any city or government, and go around recording all known human history and information as Humanity's copy versus the Library's. Libraries are all managed by a Guardian, usually a citizen of the city it reigns over and chosen by the Library itself... basically you get stuck in it and never die and will have to act as its spokesperson. The government has no say over who it chooses, but will try to pressure them into working with them.

* * *

He would have shut the door in the kid's face if he didn't spot the _Hapalochlaena_ curled delicately around the kid's left wrist. He knows only of a select few people with a non-fish companion, all of whom are people in the topmost tier of their government. The kid blinks up at him, a stubborn, determined look on his face.

"...let's see that card again."

He takes the thin, metallic card from the kid, the spinning letters across the burnished spelled metal quickly settling into a title, name, and designation.

"Edogawa Conan, you said?"

The card carries the signature K on the bottom left corner, instead of an E, and when he brushes fingers over the punched code, the answering flash seems genuine enough. Clearance A, lifetime research permit.

"I used to work with Kudo Shinichi," the boy offers.

"If you're related to him in any way… " he pauses, mulling over his next words carefully. "The Library has yet to choose its next Guardian since his death."

"I doubt it will choose a child to be its representative." A wry smile quirks Edogawa's lips upwards. "No one below the age of 18, or that was what the pattern has revealed so far."

"You would trust in the patterns of old magic? I wouldn't be so sure myself, but if you're sure." Kaito steps aside, opening the door wide in welcome. "Go ahead."

Edogawa nods, and brushes past him into the library, tucking his permit back into his pocket.

"You are the temporary keeper of the Library, yes?"

"In the event of Kudou's death, yes." The door closes almost ominously behind them, but Edogawa doesn't notice, too busy peering up at the towering shelves around them.

"I see. So they've chosen an Outsider for our Library." Edogawa pushes at his spectacles, then turns around to face him. "Tell me what you know. I'm here to investigate my cousin's murder."


	12. Bath Time is for kids

Warning: None

A.N: Bathing together can be cute. Or super awkward. Can be seen as pre-slash on Shinichi's end while Kaito is legit c'mon-i'm-dating-material at him. Also written in memory of the kid who never fails to scream in the shower because the water's too hot for him.

* * *

"It's _scalding_ in here!"

A splash, then a hand catches him before he could fall and slip, a warm chuckle at his ear.

"It's just the right temperature." The owner of the hand dips a hand into the water, and swishes it around. "Don't be a baby, Conan-kun. It's just right."

"I'm going to be _boiled alive_."

"Absolute piffle. And you call _me_ dramatic?"

Still, he doesn't relent until the other reaches over to twist the tap open, adding cold water into the steaming tub. He watches the water level rise, slightly, then carefully puts a hand in to test the temperature.

"Better," he allows, and the tap is twisted off again.

"You're ruining my bath, that's what you're doing. In you go." There is some quiet grumbling, and then he squawks when the towel is tugged loose from around his waist, before he is lifted and deposited into the tub with a fair bit of splashing.

"You're the one who came up with the idea," Shinichi says mulishly as Kaito (it's still weird, thinking of him as Kaito after all the time spent thinking about him as Kid) drops his own towel and wades in, settling into the water with a sigh of relief. "Children are more sensitive to heat than adults, and I could have done just as well with the shower."

"Do you live on just bread and cheese?" Kaito cracks open an eye to peer at him. "You need to learn to have fun and relax."

There's a retort on the tip of his tongue, but then Kaito has already closed his eyes again, settling back against the side of the bathtub, so Shinichi swallows whatever he is about to say, and rests his chin on the ledge of the tub.

Why had he agreed in the first place? He has no idea. It probably had been the pseudo-date that Kaito had brought him out on prior, although it had involved a grisly murder at the end (which he had solved, thank you), and a badly timed mugging attempt which Kaito had intercepted quickly.

The thief had called it - what did he say again - scouting and casing. It hadn't been the case. There had been flowers, sticky bubbles, chocolate cake and coffee, bookstores and video games. The murder and the mugging was a complication, but it hadn't dampened the mood the day had put him in at all. It had, however, made it so that it was too late to return home, and so Kaito had invited him to stay the night instead, where the thief had made dinner (surprisingly well versed in culinary skills), and he'd been roped into a bath together.

A hand around his middle makes him jump, but it only pulls him backwards to rest against the thief, letting go only when it was sure he would stay.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Nothing in particular."

Kaito runs a hand through his hair, smoothing the wet strands back and tucking them behind his ears, warm against the back of his neck. "You're always a loud thinker," Kaito murmurs, and when Shinichi looks up, he is smiling, a satisfied, pleased satisfaction on his face, and Shinichi is suddenly made aware of how close they are sitting together in the tub, damp heat between them and pressed skin to skin.

He's suddenly aware of how Kaito's fingers had lingered over his shoulders, trailing down his arms and when he'd rubbed the sponge in small circles down his calves to his feet, lathering up a fine foam as he went. He'd pressed his thumbs firmly into the soles of his feet, causing his toes to curl, and Shinichi doesn't think that he'd imagined the edge to Kaito's expression then. A little dark, a little hungry, skirting around all that pleasantry and courtesy, although Kaito is careful to keep it masked.

"Is there something on my face?" Kaito asks curiously when he stares for a second longer than he should have.

Shinichi turns back to the wall facing them, settling back against the thief's chest, mustering the blandest expression that he can manage on his face. "Probably just stupidity.

"That's not a very nice thing to say… "

"If I'm not being nice, I would be slapping handcuffs on you right now."

The thief snorts unattractively behind him, but Shinichi is already tuning him out, turning his mind to this new development.

It could be interesting.


	13. No Solid Evidence HakuKai

A.N: It's sort of a crime to not have more Hakuba/Kaito fics around. I'm fixing this. In fact I fixed it a little too much. Hakuba is my cinnamon roll.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

He had just finished securing Snake from head to toe with rope (just in case the handcuffs weren't enough, and when it came to everyone's safety, overkill was overrated), and had looked up to see Hakuba leaning away from him, head turned as far away as possible, with his left hand firmly over his eyes.

"...if I don't look at you, I won't know you're Kuroba, and I won't have to arrest my boyfriend for illegal criminal activities."

It has him laughing outright, and Hakuba stiffens from where he is kneeling, although he doesn't move an inch or take his hand from his eyes. He steps over Snake, and Hakuba startles at the drape of his cape over his shoulder as he leans in over his detective, gloved hand keeping his hand over his eyes and pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

"You're cute," Kaito says, voice dropping into a low croon, pleased when Kuroba flushes. He is right, though, and it was too good an opportunity to _not_ tease him. "Can I steal you from your boyfriend, tantei-san?"


	14. Just a little disagreement HakuKai

A.N: My other main ship. Here, they probably aren't dating yet, but dilly-dallying around each other a lot. Having Hakuba throw himself into danger without so much as a second thought does piss Kaito off a lot, apparently. Kudou-kun is so ready with the popcorn.

* * *

There's a soft rustle of cloth, and there is a white figure at his window. Silently, it climbs over the windowsill, and giving the beeping machines a disdainful look, comes to stop next to his bed.

"KID." Hakuba nods slightly at him, giving up on sleep completely. He has never been able to sleep well in a foreign environment, much less in a hospital. "To what do I owe this visit to?"

The look KID gives him is far from friendly. Instead, the thief plucks the clipboard from the end of the bed, giving it a cursory once over. Not that he needs to read it. Hakuba is certain that he already knows what he is in for.

"So. What happened back there?" The thief replaces the clipboard, adopting a casual stance. Hakuba doesn't like the patronising smile on the thief's face, and would have sat up if the thief would let him. As it is, it seems a better option to remain still to keep from inciting anymore of his wrath than he already has.

"You've already read the report, haven't you? You don't need me to tell you what you already know."

"Oh, no." The thief leans forwards, and Hakuba tries to scoot away from him. If the thief doesn't look menacing before, he looks downright murderous right now. "What I'm interested to know which the reports don't talk about is why you were so _careless_."

His smile is more teeth than amusement, and Hakuba actually flinches when his hand moves away from the railing to reach for him. It gives KID pause, then the hand returns to the railing again.

"I'm waiting," the white-clad thief prompts him when the silence has gone on a beat too long for his liking.

"They had… hostages," Hakuba says lamely, avoiding eye contact with the thief. "He wasn't - we cannot guarantee their safety past the given timeline, especially with how erratically - "

"So you thought you'd trade with them, correct?" The thief says cheerfully, and Hakuba thinks if he wasn't dead because their serial killer didn't do a good job of killing him, he is very dead now. "What the _fuck_ , Hakuba."

"It's none of your business, is it?" Hakuba snaps, because it's been a thoroughly taxing week. He's had to deal with dead teenagers, a tonne of paperwork, a crazy serial killer and being a hostage for three days before anyone cottoned on, and he has nothing left in him to deal with an angry thief just because he did what needed to be done. "Should I have sat back and let him kill that girl?"

"Don't twist my words. So you think playing right into his hands when you knew it was you he wanted was an equally great idea?" The monocle flashes silver above his face, before the thief visibly takes in a deep breath, and takes a step backwards away from the bed. "You don't usually get so involved."

"And you don't know me that well, so don't pretend you do."

"Oh, I don't? I see how it is then. Please, don't let me keep you from your rest and upholding the law." KID sweeps him a mocking bow. "We pay our taxes for you to hurl yourself into life threatening situations so that we wouldn't have to. Thank you for your good job today, tantei-san."

He's gone before Hakuba can say anything to that scathing parting remark. When he is sure KID is gone, he lies back, and stares at the ceiling. That had gone well. KID is… pissed is a vast understatement, but he thought that he would have understood, having pranced around rooftops in his teenage years to lure a trigger happy criminal syndicate out into the open. The ceiling doesn't give him any answers, and so he reaches under his pillow and retrieves his cellphone. It's still daytime in London, so Kudou should still be awake. It rings for at least ten seconds before Kudou does pick up, sounding distracted.

"I'm told to tell you to use your genius brain to think really hard about what you did," Kudou says before he could get in a greeting. "It didn't go well, I presume?"

Hakuba groans.


	15. Over my own dead body

Warning: Major character death

A.N: Because this is too similar to another semi-ghost!fic I have currently on-going, I cut this one short. If anyone wants to adopt this one, feel free to, but do let me know. Mostly because I don't want to write too many ghosts at any one time, if that makes sense.

* * *

He's never had the chance to see tantei-kun work a crime scene up close - funny that, since the little detective always had a tendency to inspire an untimely urge to do murder in random members of society wherever he went, but we digress. It's interesting (as far as bodies went, mostly just the intellect that the little boy was displaying, really, since Kaito didn't like dead bodies), and, honestly, this was tantei-kun in his specific area of expertise. Watching the professionals at work will be entertaining, at least.

Too bad it was his own body everyone was standing over.

Technically, he shouldn't even be existing anymore (but the fact that he does implies that ghosts do exist?). Aoko's already been led away by Hakuba, who was apparently the one to check his body (and also the same person to announce that he is now a dead body and that there is suspected foul play - thanks, Hakuba) and who didn't return a good ten minutes after tantei-kun had bounded up and declared it a crime scene and could everyone just back off before they could contaminate everything.

"Stop sniffing my dead body," Kaito groused, watching tantei-kun lean in to sniff at his collar. Deaf to his words, tantei-kun only hooked a finger into his collar to peer at something, before rocking back onto his heels with a thoughtful expression, eyes roving over his corpse. "Find anything yet?"


	16. Taking Hostage - Hakuba Saguru

Warnings: Violence

A.N: We all get the urge to beat up our favourite characters now and then. Ending up to interpretation.

* * *

Hakuba suppresses a cough, moaning in pain at the blinding stab of pain in his side. Lying down, he figures, is going to be interesting from now on. Carefully, he pushes himself back into an upright position, well aware of how much his arms are shaking (focus, focus, no, not on how much you ache, focus). Sharp movement, and he flinches involuntarily, bracing himself for the blow but no, false alarm. The man is only reaching up to push his fringe out of his face, wiping sweat off of his forehead.

"You know, I feel as though we're missing something. Between me and you." The man indicates the space between them cordially, clearly pleased by the fear that he has instilled into him successfully. "We go such a long way back, tantei-san… You're so frigid, man. At least give me a good reaction for the effort I'm putting in!"

He follows it up with a hard blow to his shoulder, and Hakuba cries out again when pain shoots down his arm and up his neck, vision going grey. By the time he is coming back to his senses, concrete unforgivingly rough against his cheek, the man is whistling that godawful tune again. It couldn't have been more than three hours, give or take. How long does it take to find one teenage boy, kidnapped in broad daylight and with multiple eyewitnesses? Then again, with how sloppy the man is being, Hakuba is afraid that the man isn't so much bothered with getting caught than being allowed to cause as much damage to Hakuba as he can between now and till the point that help arrives.

A loud thud draws his attention again, and fear curls tight at the base of his spine as the man empties as bucket of water over an unconscious Kuroba, trussed up in rope and missing his school blazer and shoes. The teenager moans, shuddering, and the man sets the bucket aside, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"Caught this rat sniffing around. Friend of yours?" The man drags Kuroba up into a sitting position, the teen leaning heavily against the crates behind his back, and begins slapping him on the cheek roughly. "He's got quite a lot of interesting tricks."

"He's not a friend," Hakuba forces out between chattering teeth. "Let him go. Your beef is with me."

"I know that. But you know what?" The man hums, picking up Kuroba's right hand and curling the fingers up into a fist before stretching them out again, the boy groggily coming to with a quiet groan. "Since I'm already in trouble anymore, one more victim wouldn't hurt?"

And to Hakuba's horror, he takes a firm hold of Kuroba's ring finger just as the teen blinks his eyes open, and breaks it with a sharp cracking sound.


	17. Infiltrating DIET

A.N: This is the other angel!Shinichi and demon!Kaito fic I was talking about. In which Kaito likes to pretend to be the sex-driven, completely evil demon he is advertised as (but he is in reality a vanilla cupcake / must protect at all costs), and Shinichi buys the whole act hook line and sinker. Further things in the planning, but I have very little time to trot it all out.

* * *

Shinichi doesn't straighten from his bow until the prime minister is out of sight, then immediately fixes a glare onto the demon lounging suggestively against the side of the prime minister's immaculate desk.

"You again."

Kuroba tips his head to the side in a manner clearly calculated to be seductive, fingers trailing down the length of his silk tie, knot loose around his collar. "You could be nicer, meitantei, seeing as you've just interrupted some important business of mine." The smirk accompanying his words made it clear exactly what 'business' it was, and Shinichi feels the prick of familiar irritation in his chest as the demon licks his lips in a clear invitation. "Why don't you come here and wrap things up for me in his stead?"

Holding onto his sense of professionalism, Shinichi coughs, sneaking a glance at the desk for any discerning clues to the game the demon is playing. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The demon lets his head fall back, toning down his salacious grin, uncrossing his legs. "I'm infiltrating DIET for my own nefarious purposes - obviously. The PM's in my pocket, don't you know?"

Revulsion crawls across his skin, and Shinichi shakes it off as he would a fly before he is further dragged down by these unprofessional feelings that the demon evokes in him. "The man's _married_. Politics isn't your field."

"Yeah, but go big or go home, right? I wanted to play, so I figured, why not meddle with the big game? Petty crime gets so boring, you understand. Now, if I can get a scandal on the news… " The demon pulls his tie out from around his collar swiftly, tucking it away into a pocket. "Think of it. The crying wife, the shamed husband, the humiliated politician and their rebellious children. The media would descend upon them like sharks. Lovely, isn't it - woah."

Kuroba jerks back at the sight of his unsheathed blade, a hand coming up defensively against the spelled metal. For one of Hell's best (as advertised), Kuroba is oddly defenceless, often found without so much as a measure of defense in place. Then again, he could simply be aiming to mislead his opponents into complacency. Not willing to bet against Kuroba's tactics, Shinichi grips the hilt of his knife tightly, and carefully watches for any answering move that the demon might make.

Indigo eyes glance from his blade back to him, then Kuroba wraps his arms across his torso in an oddly shy manner. "I… I really don't like knifeplay," he mumbles, clutching at the open collar of his shirt.

The image of Kuroba, lips bitten cherry plump with thin lines of red scored across the thin skin of his back and thighs springs unbidden into his mind, and Shinichi immediately banishes the thought, making a sort of slashing motion towards the demon. "I'm going to send you back in ribbons, just for _that_."

(So no, not really helping the case there, he thinks.)

"Why? Are you jealous? I mean, I've done worse for shoots, and even worse for gain." Clearly having figured out the path his thoughts had taken, Kuroba turns up his nose at him, rubbing a hand up and down his arm in a gesture of comfort. "Don't meddle in my affairs. The PM and I go a long way back, so children should just stick to what children do. _Go home, meitantei_."

He is taking a step towards the door before he even realises what has happened, Kuroba's words a compulsion spell weaving around him. Soft laughter, then Kuroba is gone, leaving Shinichi alone in the office. Biting back a curse, Shinichi prays for patience and vanishes the blade, scouring the office for any traces of compulsion the demon might have left behind for the PM. He finds none, but Kuroba's sly. There has to be something. Clenching his fist, Shinichi weighs the pros and cons of spending an entire week tailing the PM, and takes his leave.

::

The PM greets Kuroba like an old friend.

Kuroba grins, slapping the PM's offered palm in some kind of high-five, and hip checks him shamelessly. They're in a semi-public area, but no one's paying them any sort of attention. The PM accepts the offered rose from the demon's hand with a matching grin of his own, then slaps him hard on the back.

"You're magic," he says breathlessly, cheeks flushed red. "She _loved_ it!"

"Japan's important, but so's a work-life balance," Kuroba says sagely after he's gotten his breath back. "It's just like placing your bets on a single policy and having to clean up for years because of it. So do I get to see any photos, or are those for family only?"

Careful to keep his presence from them, Shinichi watches as they huddle heads over the PM's phone. Kuroba laughs, a surprisingly bright sound, and coos fondly at whatever's on the screen. Coming from a demon, it's a decidedly odd sound, but one that isn't bad. "She's sweet. You're lucky."

"Am I?" the PM smiles down warmly at the photos. "But somehow, I feel that it has nothing to do with luck at all. Still, I am thankful and unbearably grateful that despite my mistakes and shortcomings, life has still saw fit to… "

"Oh, crumpets," says Kuroba (surprisingly, because that's only something Shinichi's ever heard Hakuba saying), and pulls out a string of handkerchiefs from the pocket of jeans, unknotting one and putting it into the PM's hands. "Please. Please don't cry. Here. Clean yourself up."

"Forgive me for being emotional… " the man blows his nose noisily into the handkerchief, then dabs at his cheeks with it. Kuroba grimaces, but gamely pats him on the shoulder. "Japan needs more young people like you."

Kuroba snorts, clearly amused. To Shinichi's knowledge, the demon is easily over hundreds of years old - hardly young by human standards. Bit green for demons, and it probably is what gives Kuroba cause for overachieving, throwing himself fully into his work as an ambassador of Hell. His enthusiasm is almost embarrassing, if he weren't so earnest about it.

"That's your job, isn't it? No one's born to think or be a certain way. You have to cultivate them. Might take years or generations for the old mindset to be wiped out completely, but I'm sure you already have more than a handful who will agree with you." Kuroba whistles quietly, face scrunched up in thought. "Oh, but if you want a generation of kids looking like me, then I guess you will just have to resort to implementing nationwide plastic surgery."

Shinichi smiles when the PM begins to poke at Kuroba, clearly starting off on a long lecture with him. The demon sticks his tongue out childishly, then glances over the space where Shinichi is standing. The angel stiffens, but relaxes when the demon's gaze passes right over him without any sign of having noticed that he is there. Deciding that he's seen enough, Shinichi takes his leave, thinking over what he's just seen.

 _I'm infiltrating DIET for my own nefarious purposes._

For what? Baby photos?

He will just have to wait and see.


	18. The devil and their selfies

The soft, unmistakable _shick_ of a camera has him turning around on reflex, only to look right into the dark lens of a phone camera just as another _shick_ goes off again.

"Yo, meitantei!" Kuroba Kaito waves at him with his free hand, tongue between teeth as he saves the image to his gallery. "Today is also a no-smiling day! You're very distracted, mm?"

"What's it to you?" Shinichi demands, making a grab for the phone only for the demon to dance out of his reach, the clover charm swinging wildly. " _Delete_ that."

"No," whines Kuroba, drawing the sound out obnoxiously and cradling the phone to his chest. He's changed to a new model again. "Hey, meitantei... did you know that humans weren't that far off the mark when they decided that they can capture a soul through the lens of a camera?"

"...and?"

"So the short explanation is that we can't capture a soul through a lens, but we can capture part of it through their emotions. Not good for possession, but good enough for a spell. It's bothersome, sure, but I probably have a hundred of yours by now, if you know what I mean."

Shinichi narrows his eyes, irritation becoming a familiar burn beneath his breastbone, Kaito slyly watching him with a clear challenge in his eyes. "Is that a threat?"

The phone snaps shut with a sharp click. "If I am?"

"You know it won't work, Kuroba. Leave. I'm not in the mood to play with you today."

"But I _am_ ," comes the obnoxious reply. "C'mon, you're no fun. You only hang around dead bodies. You've brought enough justice down upon my town. Must I create a crime scene myself just to get your undivided attention?"

The spell that he throws out at the demon crackles loudly before fizzling out, deflected by the other's sharp reflexes. Kuroba skips sideways, hands tucked away into his pockets, wary. "Sometimes, I wonder why I keep you around," the demon says testily.

"Sometimes, I ask myself the same thing."

"Hey! I was here first. And besides, you'd get into trouble with the entirety of Hell for killing one of their best? And an ambassador, on top of that?" Kuroba shrugs, the motion odd as though he is shuffling out invisible wings.

"'One of their best'?" Shinichi touches the tilt of his blade, and watches Kuroba hunch his shoulders defensively. "Isn't that false advertisement? You're just a pretty face to me."

"Being an ambassador is hard work!" Sure, if hard work consists of getting photographed in increasingly lewd situations. The contraband material never fails to find its way into Heaven, Shinichi is sad to say. "But… you admit I'm pretty, so just for that, I'll let you win this round."

Before Shinichi can say anything, the demon disappears, the tips of his ears red. The irritation balloons into something else, squashy and persistent, taking up so much space in his chest that he finds it hard to breathe, and Shinichi ends up going extra hard on a couple of law-offenders that he meets.

Kuroba being Kuroba and a figurative pain in everyone's ass, he sends Shinichi his edited photographs by evening. Shinichi takes a look at his own edited face, and before he can throw his phone away, Hakuba plucks it out of his hand, scrolling through them with a calculatedly neutral expression on his face.

"You ran into Kuroba today, didn't you? It's all over twitter."

"Do people have nothing better to do than to talk?"

"The both of you are celebrities," Hakuba sighs mock-mournfully, handing his phone back to him. "It can't be helped. But it is good that you are getting along well. If you gave him so much as a paper cut, he would cry my ears off for days."

"...Is it wise, being on close terms with a demon?" Shinichi tucks the phone back into his pocket, accepting the curry korokke that Hakuba passes along to him.

"He's taught me that the law isn't absolutely black and white. We all speak of the War, yes, but isn't it a Cold War by now? We may be… friends, but I know where my duty lies if it ever comes to it. He isn't like the others, though. Give him time, you'll see." Hakuba crunches noisily into his own food, and Shinichi tosses a packet of grape juice onto his lap. "In the meantime, I will continue to indulge in my vices, so to speak."

"...right."


	19. No good with needles (Hakukai idol AU)

A.N: My idol!AU for Hakuba and Kuroba. It started off Kaishin but I might choose to make it Hakukai in the end. Either way, I do have two different storylines for each pairing.

* * *

The hand pulls harder on his shirt, and Hakuba rubs at Kuroba's back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. They're tying the tourniquet around his arm now, and so Hakuba keeps his other hand on the back of Kuroba's head to keep him from looking. When they swab the alcohol swab across his elbow, Kuroba goes all stiff in his arms with a quiet, frightened sound, and Hakuba bends down to make shushing noises into his hair, never ceasing the firm circles over Kuroba's shoulder blade.

Ever since they had ushered them into the clinic for the next segment of the show, Kuroba had gone increasingly quiet and still, as though not to draw any attention to himself. Then, their coach had announced that this segment will include a blood test, and all the colour had left Kuroba's face immediately. It had taken a lot of coaxing and a whole lot of dragging to get him to abandon his corner, Kuroba digging in his heels stubbornly, lips pinched into a tight line as the crew members deposited him into the chair. Hakuba had known that Kuroba has some kind of issue with needles, but he had no idea that the situation would be so bad.

"Don't tense up so much, or the needle will b- " the crew members falters, then goes silent when Hakuba glares at him.

It's bad enough that they're pushing Kuroba through this stupid entertainment programme and putting all of it on screen, profiting off of his fear. Their fans will pay in blood just for the scene alone, the idea of their devil-may-care idol brought down by something as simple as a fear for needles too great a temptation for them to resist. Hakuba understands that it is simply their manager's way of increasing their earnings and viewership, but when Kuroba is a shaking mess in his arms, it is a rather bitter truth to swallow.

Gods. Sometimes, he really hates their job.

"It's okay," he murmurs to Kuroba, the man still maintaining a death grip on his shirt. He can't see his face, but that's okay. If he can't see his expression, then no one else can. "Breathe slowly."

A choked whimper escapes Kuroba when the needle slides into the crook of his elbow, letting go of Hakuba's shirt to grab for his hand instead. Hakuba thinks he's about to break all of the fingers in his left hand from how hard Kuroba's squeezing it, but lets him have it anyway.

"It's okay," Hakuba repeats dumbly as blood flows from the needle into the plastic tubing. "It'll be done soon. We'll get you grilled fish as a reward later."

A fist thumps weakly into his side, and Kuroba burrows closer into his chest with a suspiciously wet sounding sniff.

"Bastard."

::

"That had been entirely unexpected. Good move by the way, Saguru." Their manager cracks open a can of coffee, chugging half of its contents while Hakuba turns his bottle of water over and over in his hands. "What with yours and his supposed animosity, the fans will love this unexpected development between the both of you. In fact, it may be an interesting aspect… "

"I didn't do it for the fans," Hakuba cuts in coldly, getting up from his chair. "I understand your stance, but please don't push him so hard. He was terrified."

"A good opportunity for him to further develop his image, I think, but I will take your words and his health into consideration. Although I hope that you will also understand that in this business, some of it is regretfully unavoidable… "

"I know." Hakuba grips the doorknob tight, and lets none of the displeasure that he is feeling show on his face. "Please excuse me, I would like to check on how he is doing before our next session."

"To be honest - " Hakuba pauses in the doorway patiently, but their manager shakes his head. "No. Nevermind. Please go ahead, Saguru."

Hakuba nods at him with a polite smile, and leaves, dropping the smile entirely once the door has shut behind his back. Five more hours, maybe six if the camera crew decides to drop by their sleeping quarters to scope out their sleeping arrangement, then they can rest.

Six hours. He grimaces, checking his pocket watch for the time before making his way to the room where he knows Kuroba's hidden into for break time. Either way, if Kuroba breaks character in any way for the rest of the day, everyone will likely forgive it in light of the fright he's had.

He just hopes that it wouldn't make things awkward between the both of them.


	20. Witch's Blood (Gore Warning)

Warning: Gore, implied cannibalism, mutilation

A.N: The last two characters are my OP OCs. I have a much longer completed story in my head but I don't have the mental power to write that.

* * *

They're draining his blood when he bursts into the lower chambers. There is a limp body tied fast to the tilted metal table to the side, the one with the drains running along the edges, red collecting and dripping down into a bucket underneath. Kuroba barely stirs when he tackles the men wearing aprons with a shout, mewling quietly through the gag in his mouth.

"Oh god," Hakuba breathes, hands fluttering over his too still body, skin so pale he can see the map of veins underneath. "Oh god. Kaito. _Kaito_. Please."

He undoes the leather straps holding him down, but remains at a loss to the deep cuts running along his forearms. How much blood can a human lose before they go entirely into shock? Hakuba is still frozen when Kudou bursts through the door with a yell, shoving him aside before tearing out a long strip of cloth that he quickly uses to bind Kuroba's arm from elbow to wrist.

"Do his other arm! Quickly!" Kudou throws the other tangled strip at him, Hakuba fumbling to wrap the makeshift bandages tightly around Kuroba's arm, clumsy from horror. "Fuck! Why did you have to bring him back?! Kaito, don't sleep!"

The familiar terror in Kudou's voice is paralysing, and Hakuba can only watch dumbly as Kudou draws a hand back to slap Kuroba hard on one cheek, then the other. "I didn't know," he whispers, hands shaking as he reaches for Kuroba again. "I didn't - "

"Why did you think I banished him all those years ago?! Why didn't you bother with a check?! I told you - " Kudou drags in a wet breath, eyes glittering with anger and unshed tears, feral. "Doctor. We need to get him to a doctor - "

"We won't make it in time," Hakuba chokes out. It's flooding in now, the gravity of what he's done, loud above the cotton wool buzz in his head, the knowledge that Kuroba will never survive to see another day with all the blood he's lost. If he had never forced Kuroba here, none of this would have happened.

It's all his fault.

"Help me or get out of my way," Kudou snarls, abandoning him to the butchering table for transportation to get Kuroba out of the palace. Belatedly, distantly, Hakuba realises that Kuroba is missing a few fingers on his left hand. He won't be able to do magic again, even if he survives. No sleight of hand, no card tricks.

Kuroba isn't breathing.

Fear, then there's a burning sensation lighting up from inside his chest, and Hakuba reaches out to link his hand with Kuroba's own. He's cold to the touch, and Hakuba runs fingers through his matted hair, the burning sensation ramping up and spreading out until it has chased all of the air out of his lungs, a white hot star where his heart should have been.

The stone, Hakuba realises. _Of course_.

"Kaito," he chokes, holding their hands up to his chest, before leaning over and hacking up the stone over Kuroba's chest with a wet sound, vision going dark and blurry immediately as it leaves him, leaving behind a horrible, hollow feeling in him. It still looks like when he'd first seen it, alight from within like a million fireflies, and he grabs for it, a hot sun contained within a physical rock, holding it over where Kuroba's heart should be, flesh burning where it has come into contact with the stone.

Dimly, he hears Kudou shouting behind him, a loud commotion in the background, and fervently, feverishly, Hakuba makes the one and only wish in his life.

 _Live_ , he mouths, putting everything that he has left into the fire burning in their linked hands, sobbing in relief when it sinks through flesh and skin. _Please, God, let him live_.

Arms grab him by the waist, and, too weak to fight them off, Hakuba lets them drag him backwards off of Kuroba, grinning loopily up at Kudou's face, pale and terrified above his even as darkness tows what little consciousness he has underneath.

He'd felt Kuroba's chest expand with the first strong breath he'd taken, and that is enough for him.

It has to be enough.

::

"Hey, some people are finally acknowledging that I'm a God," Darling hums, a large fractured piece of amber held suspended between his open palms, throwing off fragments of light as it spins in midair.

"You've been meddling again," the little boy says disapprovingly, slotting a book back onto the shelf with more force than actually needed, sending the star a glare.

"What is romance without a little tragedy?" Darling grins unrepentantly, eyes never leaving his work. "Even Shakespeare agrees."

"Need I remind you that you don't read?"

"Damn. Fine then. I find it entertaining. Happy?" Darling uncrosses his legs, then gets up from the armchair. "I gave him a chance to bring his lover back. No one died. It wasn't anything bad."

"Other than the bit where you've cursed their kingdom and their prince? Burnt his heart into ashes?" Irritated, the boy makes a clicking sound with his tongue, sweeping off to the study, stomping. "Too much is too much, you meddlesome creature."

"Pot, Kettle, ▉▉▉▉▉."


End file.
